


Descent of a Reviewer

by Ningikuga



Category: Sumerian Mythology, That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: Myth Retelling, Other, Public Nudity, downer ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ningikuga/pseuds/Ningikuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MarzGurl walks to the Underworld to retrieve someone close to her.  The price is . . . not quite what she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent of a Reviewer

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for [this prompt](http://tgwtg-meme.livejournal.com/1329.html?thread=1304369) on the LJ TGWTG kinkmeme, although this ended up much sadder and less sexy than the prompter probably intended.
> 
> This work is intended to depict characters/personae, not real people, and absolutely no implications about the people who write and play those characters are intended or should be inferred. Neither is any disrespect towards the goddess depicted, or those in her care (may they rest in peace until reborn), intended.

“Okay,” she whispered to the gathered reviewers behind her, “are we sure this is the right place?”

“It’s the place marked on all the ancient maps,” Oancitizen said, tracing a route on a crumbling roll of papyrus with one finger.

“Nimue and Pollo both picked it out as the only place in North America where the energy signatures are right,” Linkara said.

Todd in the Shadows shuddered. “I don’t know for sure, but the shadows are deeper here than anywhere else I’ve ever been.”

Paw turned his head back and forth slowly. “There’s no music here,” he said, and Todd nodded in agreement. “Just drums in the deep.”

Doctors Block and Tease held up a prism of some purplish metal. It immediately turned black. “This is it,” they agreed.

If Todd was shuddering, Spoony was positively shivering. “Flesh,” he murmured, then shook it off. “Yeah, if I still had the ring, it’d be going bugfuck here.”

“Good enough,” MarzGurl said. She tugged a black-and-gold sentai mask over her face. “You all don’t have to stay here, if you don’t want to.”

They all shared a glance. Oancitizen finally spoke: “If you succeed, then I believe we all want to be here to share your joy.”

She chuckled sharply. “And what if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll draw straws to see who comes after you,” Linkara answered.

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. “Well, here goes nothing,” she said, waving as she turned and strode into the mouth of the cave.

The figure that appeared out of thin air before her, less than a hundred feet from the cave mouth, reminded her of one of the Cloaks, although it was taller and thinner than any of them. “You may not pass here, mortal,” it hissed.

Well, she’d known from the start that she was going to have to bluff her way past this. She threw back her head, puffed out her chest, and demanded, “Who said I was mortal?”

The figure laughed, and suddenly its voice sounded remarkably like Spoony’s. “Very well,” it said, “pay your price and I will open the gate for you.”

“What’s the price?” she said. She’d left her wallet at the entrance, but she could go back for it easily enough.

“One article of clothing,” it said.

She blinked at it. “Clothing?” she replied. “Seriously?”

“Indeed,” it said, and held out one hand expectantly.

She glanced back. The other reviewers were barely thirty yards behind her, loitering in the mouth of the cave. Oan and Block seemed to be having an argument in frantic whispers; the rest all held up their hands, no more sure than she was.

“Well, okay, if that’s what you want,” she said, shrugging off her denim jacket. She was sad to see it go, but this was necessary.

“Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” the figure pronounced, as if it were reciting the phrase from memory. It hung the jacket on a hook affixed somehow to the cave wall; had that been there before? The enormous wrought-iron gate that solidified out of the darkness certainly hadn’t been; the gatekeeper flipped a latch and pushed it slowly open.

She stepped through it, and immediately the temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees. She wrapped her arms around herself; just before the gate swung closed, she thought to ask, “How do you know my name?”

“We know all your names,” the gatekeeper answered as the gate clanged shut.

The floor of the cave now sloped steadily downwards, and the light filtering in from outside grew dim. It felt as though she spent nearly half an hour walking, but when she reached the next guardian, she could still see the shadows of her friends silhouetted against the distant sunlight.

“Hey,” she said to the guardian, not quite knowing what to expect.

This one was even taller and thinner, and when it spoke, it sounded a bit like the Critic. “How did you get past the first gate?” it asked, clearly surprised. “You’re still wearing a body.”

“I paid the asking price,” she answered simply.

“Then you must pay again here,” the gatekeeper said, gesturing towards the hook that (she was now sure) had just appeared.

“Okay,” she answered, kicking off one sandal.

The guardian of the gate shook its hooded head. “Footwear is a two-fer. Give me the other one, too.”

“Seriously?” she cried. “What a rip-off!”

“Hey, rules are rules,” the guardian chided.

She sighed and removed the other sandal, wishing she’d worn boots and heavy socks instead. It dutifully hung them together on the hook; a massive gate made of riveted bronze plates swam into visibility. “Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” it announced as it slid back a latch and let the gate swing slowly open on its hinges.

“Are you guys contractually obligated to say that, or something?” she said as she passed through the gate. The ground on this side side was rougher, with loose pebbles and broken stalagmites scattered across the cave floor.

“More or less. Enjoy your stay!” The guardian pulled the gate shut.

Again, it felt as if she had walked for nearly an hour over the uneven and occasionally sharp terrain by the time she reached the next gatekeeper, but when she looked back, she could still make out individual shadows of the other reviewers in the circle of light that was the cave’s mouth. 

This gatekeeper was tall, but broader-shouldered than the others. “They seriously let you pass?” it snorted, in a voice just like Todd’s, only deeper.

“Yup,” she said calmly. “Same price as the last two?”

“It’ll be the same at each gate,” the guardian said. “By the way, after this one it starts to get rough. You’re not even at the halfway point yet. If you turn around now, you can still go home.”

“Rough how?” she asked.

“You know. The usual quest hazards,” it said, waving its hands vaguely. “Monsters, fire, ice, that kind of thing.”

“I think I can handle it,” she assured him. Her hands found the hem of her t-shirt, and for a moment she hesitated, thinking of the eyes of her colleagues and these male-voiced guardians on her. Still, she twisted her thumbs into the material and yanked it over her head, handing it to the guardian. She felt its gaze fall onto her cleavage, and shivered with the cold.

“Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” it said as it slipped the shirt onto the hook. This gate appeared to be carved of some heavy, fine-grained wood, and the guardian had to lift a massive crossbar to let her pass.

True to the gatekeeper’s word, the next section of the cave was glazed with a thick and slippery layer of ice. Drops of freezing water fell from the cave roof and made icicles in her hair as she slid and stumbled from wall to wall; she had to stop and break the accumulated ice from her pants legs twice just to keep going. By the time she reached the next gatekeeper, her teeth were chattering uncontrollably and she couldn’t feel her toes.

This one was much shorter, but its arms ended in talons. “Those guys are seriously bad at their jobs,” the guardian snorted in the Nostalgia Chick’s voice.

“No shit,” Marzgurl replied. “Same deal here?”

“If you’ve gotten this far,” the guardian sighed. “This is your last shot to turn back, in case you didn’t already know that.”

“I figured,” she replied. “That means it’s the halfway point, right?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” the gatekeeper answered, but it nodded slightly.

She contemplated her options. If she took off her pants, she’d lose the last bit of real protection against the elements down here, but if she took handed over her bra instead, she’d be - exposed. Somehow, even though the circle of sunlight that was the cave door was barely the size of her thumbnail held at arm’s length, she could still see her colleague’s shadows crossing it, like ants - and that meant they could probably still see her, especially since Block and Tease had brought binoculars.

Practicality over prudery. She reached back, unhooked her underwire, and handed it over, her cheeks burning.

“Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” the gatekeeper said, inspecting the undergarment critically before dropping the bit of lingerie onto the hook. This gate was carved of granite; the gatekeeper unwrapped a chain to let it slowly groan open.

She slipped through, glad for the extra bit of cover the bars of the gate would give her from prying eyes. “What is that all about?” she asked, as the temperature shifted from freezing to boiling around her.

“You’ll find out when you get to the end,” said the gatekeeper. “Assuming you get there.”

This segment of the cave was practically an oven, with random gas jets searing the air. Sensation flooded back into her frost-numbed toes just in time for them to feel like they were blistering against the broiling hot stone. She realized immediately that she’d made the right choice; the two times she wasn’t fast enough to dodge a sudden eruption of flame, the wet denim of her jeans at least offered her some protection.

Even with that, her skin was reddened with heat more than embarrassment when she arrived at the next guardian. This one looked almost exactly like one of the Cloaks, and spoke with Suede’s voice: “How did you get here?”

“Walked,” she grumbled. “Same as everyone else, I’d guess. You want the same thing they did?”

“Well, yes.” It clearly was watching her with some interest as she unbuttoned and peeled away her lightly-steaming jeans. “Although, I’m curious - what drives you to come this way, still wearing your flesh?”

If there was one thing she did not want at this point, it was to have a conversation with someone who sounded exactly like Suede while wearing nothing but her bikini briefs and a sentai mask. “Again, same as everyone else, I’d guess,” she said, as a rivulet of sweat ran down her back.

“It’s been a very long time,” the gatekeeper replied, slipping one of the belt loops over the hook. This gate seemed strangely futuristic, after the other ones; it gleamed like chrome, shimmering like a mirror in the heat. The gatekeeper pressed its hand to a plate in the gate, and it slid open as if it were on a track. “Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” the gatekeeper said as she walked through.

“I’m getting really, really tired of that,” she muttered, then stopped short. The floor of the cave fell away in front of her, replaced by a swiftly-flowing river.

Well, good thing she knew how to swim. She jumped in; the chill of the water took her breath away as she splashed down, but after the ice cave, it was tolerable, if only barely. Kicking strongly behind her, she pushed herself against the current. It seemed to take ages to make even a few feet worth of progress; the one saving grace was that no one could see how much skin she was showing.

When she hauled herself out of the water, coughing and gasping, she felt as if her lungs had been squeezed tight and then wrung out. She was back to shivering, despite her skin still stinging from the burns earlier. It took several long minutes for her to realize there was another guardian in front of her, the tallest and broadest one yet.

“Consider us impressed,” it said, in Oancitizen’s voice. It was not clear whether it was talking about her endurance or her buttocks.

“Give me a minute,” she begged, and it did so; it had no visible eyes, but she could still feel it looking at her, as if it were inspecting her. The sound of MarzGurl’s breathing was somehow louder than the water, despite the current’s speed. Finally, she felt like she had the shivering under control; she hauled herself to her feet, crossing her arms across her chest for the tiny modesty boost it gave her.

“I’m guessing you know the procedure by now,” it said, not unkindly.

“Yeah, yeah.” She frowned, considering her options. Well, it was soaked through; her underwear wasn’t really hiding much at this point. She stripped it off and handed it to the gatekeeper, still dripping.

It turned the garment back right-side out before hanging it on its hook. “Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” the guardian chanted. This gate was crafted out of glass, or maybe crystal; it glittered in the faint light, and the guardian opened it by breaking a tiny protrusion just inside the threshold.

She scurried through it, although once through, she wondered why she bothered - the gate was transparent, after all. Anyone who could see her before still could. The guardian still faced her, although whether its interest was prurient or mere curiosity was hard to tell. It was equally mortifying either way.

This section of the cave was filled with sand, or possibly dust. It clung to her feet, to her hair, to every exposed mucous membrane, and at this point they were all exposed. It itched everywhere, and the burns from before were stinging. She tugged the sentai mask around on her head, to at least protect her nose and eyes, which helped a little. Her feet sank further and further into the loose grains with each step, until she was more crawling than walking.

When the desert sand gave way to stone again, her palms and knees were bleeding. She struggled to her feet, cringing as the guardian catalogued her every feature. Unlike the others, she could see its eyes, gleaming red against the deep shadows. It took a long time looking her over; she wanted to crawl under the sand and never come out.

“Foolish meatbag,” it finally growled in a metallic echo of Linkara’s voice, “why have you come here?”

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she snarled back. “Only the one on the other side of your gate.” She whipped off the sentai mask and nearly threw it at him. “Take it and open the damn thing.”

It swept its gaze over her again and chuckled. “Be satisfied, MarzGurl, for the underworld is satisfied,” it grated, as it hung the mask on its hook; the gate that swam into view was a brilliant thing, made of gold and silver with thousands of faceted gems embedded in it. The gatekeeper removed a green gem from its hand and set it into an empty bezel; the gate swung open.

She stepped through carefully, into an immense cavern. It was cool, but not cold, and the air was terribly still. In the distance, she could hear voices, hundreds of them, twittering like birds in the dark.

“So,” boomed a voice that sounded like rock sliding against rock, “who are you, that, having come here alive, you think you may leave here again?” A form took shape from the shadows in front of her, enormous and terrible and vaguely feminine; a pair of eyes gleamed like amber in the dimness, taking in her nakedness.

MarzGurl shuddered. “Oh, Dark Queen,” she announced, and it sounded like she was shouting; her words echoed off distant walls and set off another flurry of twittering in the distance. “Queen of the Underworld,” she started again, less forcefully, “a friend of mine was taken before his time.”

“A great many of your friends have sojourned here before their appointed time,” the Queen of the Underworld said.

MarzGurl flushed from her head to her feet; she felt terribly exposed before those gleaming eyes, as if they could see not only every inch of her skin, but every image and word of her thoughts. “But one has not returned,” she answered. “I - we need him back.”

The Dark Queen glanced back behind her. “That is not possible,” she said sadly.

“Why?” MarzGurl’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “I’ll - I’ll trade places with him, if that’s your price.”

“It would indeed be so,” the Dark Queen said, “as it has been before, if I could fulfill your request at all. But I cannot.”

A single hot tear spilled down MarzGurl’s face, out of both shame and anger. “Why not?” she raged.

Behind the Dark Queen, a shadow slipped away from the twittering mob and took a more substantial shape. “Because he’s not here,” it said in another very familiar voice.

MarzGurl’s hands darted to cover her groin and breasts, the latter less than successfully. “Phelous?” she gasped.

“I’ve been looking for him down here for days,” Phelous explained, his features finally settling into their usual solidity and color. “I’m not sure if he came here and then left again immediately, or if he just went - somewhere else. But he’s not here now.”

“Then this was all for nothing,” MarzGurl moaned. “Damn it, Phelous, I wish you’d told us you were checking the underworld out. I thought you just got stuck in Limbo when you did this.”

“It’s complicated,” Phelous said, glancing up at the Dark Queen with a look of apprehension. “I checked there, too, though.” He straightened his shirt.

The Queen smiled indulgently and patted him lightly on the head. “The one you seek is not here, child,” she boomed. “And it is not your time here yet. Go back to the land of the living. The Underworld is satisfied, as I am satisfied; you may leave as you have come.”

MarzGurl shivered. “But I’m out of clothes,” she moaned. “I can’t pay to get us through the gates again!”

Phelous rolled his eyes. “Leave that to me,” he grumbled.

\---

“I’m sure that’s not him,” Dr. Block announced, lowering the binoculars. “He’s much too tall.”

The iron gate shimmered into existence, as MarzGurl and Phelous marched through it, both stark naked and blushing furiously.

Oancitizen and Linkara exchanged a glance. Without saying a word, they each swept off their coats, turned around, and marched backwards towards the two nude reviewers with the coats slung over their shoulders.

MarzGurl stopped Oan with a hand on his back. “Thanks,” she whispered, shrugging his coat on and buttoning it. It didn’t cover her legs, but at least everything else was decent. To her left, Phelous was doing the same with Linkara’s duster.

Spoony managed to get his tongue back in his mouth. “So, no dice?” he asked.

“He’s not there,” MarzGurl stated. “Phelous searched the whole place.”

In unison, everyone’s shoulders drooped. “Then there’s nothing we can do,” Dr. Tease wailed. “Even cloning him won’t help if we don’t have his spirit.”

MarzGurl let her chin drop to her chest. The world around her was starting to spin. “We have to remember him,” she said simply. “Maybe . . . maybe that’ll be enough, keeping his memory alive.”

Suddenly Linkara and Paw were at her shoulders. “Easy,” Paw murmured. “You’ve done everything anyone could have asked for and more.”

“It wasn’t enough,” she moaned as her legs buckled from exhaustion. She barely cared that their arms accidentally brushed soft flesh as they caught her; the tears welled up too fast to stop, now.


End file.
